


Finish It Later

by itisunreal



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: philindasecretsummer, prompt - matrix au - sparring and aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:04:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisunreal/pseuds/itisunreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though, for half a second, before he was plugged in, he considered giving up his doubtlessly fruitless endeavor. Her smile was increasingly rare as of late, and the thought of taking away something that made her shine, gnawed at his insides a little. But as he closed his eyes, the chatter of duckling around him, he knew he’d find a way to make it up to her… somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finish It Later

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a fight scene in my life, so my bad if it's terrible.

It was a game. It always had been. A way to deal with the stresses of being in the system, and the hardships of being out of it. They’d played it for as long as he could remember, before being assigned their own ship, before being on the same ship. They just always seemed to be able find each other. And that how, as his scanned his surrounding, he knew she’d be around here, lurking in cracks he’d never manage to fit in. 

She’d wait as long as she had to. Until he stumbled. Fell. Allowed his eyes to linger for a moment too long on the shadows. Then she’d pounce. But today he was ready, determined. Today he’d manage a win, the first in a very long time. And he’s do it, even if it meant he wouldn’t witness that magnificent smile when she finally pinned him for the last time.

Though, for half a second, before he was plugged in, he considered giving up his doubtlessly fruitless endeavor. Her smile was increasingly rare as of late, and the thought of taking away something that made her shine, gnawed at his insides a little. But as he closed his eyes, the chatter of duckling around him, he knew he’d find a way to make it up to her… somehow.

Stepping forward, Coulson moved silently, maneuvering through piles of debris, hoping on a whim she’d give herself away. Calculating how many steps he had until he was exposed, he still didn’t have the slightest ides which direction she’d attack from. With that disturbing thought, he looked up, checking the catwalks. His skin prickled in anticipation, nerves rattling. Her complete and utter absence made him hesitant to reveal himself, suspicious of her play. The fine hairs on his neck stood, and he reached, unconsciously, for sidearm then winced remembering this was a normal sparring session, and she wasn’t out for the kill. 

Peeking around a stack of crates, his eyes slipped shut, a snap reverberating through the abandoned warehouse. A beat passed before he chanced a look, eyes skimming the darkness. No movement detected, his shoulders slowly relaxed before his breath died in his lungs as he hit the floor. Sucking in a lungful of the synthetic air, he coughed, and decided if a bout ended without seeing that grin, he could live with it. He’d give her that one though; he should have known better, watched his step, his back. 

Rolling over, he expected to see her standing overtop of him, a slight curl to her lips – but she wasn’t. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and her sudden disappearance left something to be desired. His muscles tensed in apprehension. 

Pushing himself back over, and hauling himself to his knees, he concentrated, trying to sense any part of her. A tick of her watch passed. Then another, and he heard it, the faint creak of her boots. On reflex, he dropped back to the floor, rolling away from her impending assault. 

Swiftly getting back to his feet, he barricaded himself behind the crates. She was gone again, and he huffed in annoyance. “I thought you were going to play fair this time.”

“Never agreed to that,” her voice echoed.

Crouched, he glanced past the containers and recognized her silhouette dashing along the corrugated walls. He started counting down. Reaching one, he heard her hit the top of the storage containers, and forced himself forward, hoping to flee the tight space before she landed. But he met with a solid mass, and found staring at the ceiling once again, wondering how many more times he’d be subjected to observing the rusted metal.

Her laughter rang in his ears, and he figured she’d already predicted his next move, but it was what he had, and he was already at a disadvantage flat on his back. Placing his hands on the floor beside his head, he brought his legs up then thrust them forward, throwing himself up. Using the momentum to get to his feet, he shoved his arms up, guarding his face.

She stared at him, dark eyes sharp, waiting for him to make a move. And just to get the party started, he obliged, throwing his best punch as hard as he could. But stumbled back, her small fist connecting with his nose.

He scoffed, confusing at how she’d managed that. Prodding the tender area, he was relieved when his fingertips can back bloodless. Eyeing his target, he launched at her.

ooo000ooo

Simmons ran toward the galley, the excitement in Skye’s voice still bouncing in her skull. Sliding to a stop, she grabbed the edge of the doorway, and leaned in. “Guys! Guys, guys, guys…” She stopped, and swallowed thickly. “They’re fighting again.”

Trip shrugged, barely looking up from his gruel. “They do that all the time.” He continued to pick up spoonfuls and turn them over, watching the watery porridge plop back into the bowl.

“But it looks like Coulson’s winning!”

His spoon cluttered in the tin as Trip went over the table, nearly crashing into Simmons as his feet landed. He staggered around the corner, hollering an apology over his shoulder. Jemma turned back to the other occupants, enthusiasm radiating further from her with every bounce. “Aren’t you coming?”

Ward tossed the rest of his dish in the sink, and waited by the door with Simmons for Fitz to finally stand and straighten his tattered sweater.

“Coulson could actually win. This is a thrilling development, wouldn’t you say? I mean, I never thought I’d live to see the day,” she squealed, clutching her hands together.

“That’s never gonna happen.”

Rolling her eyes, she continued to walk in the lead.

ooo000ooo

Trip stood in front of the small screen, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. Skye chuckled at his furrowed brow, and looked up as the other arrived. “False alarm, everybody. She’s back on top.”

“I’ll say, Coulson’s getting his ass kick,” the newest member of their crew observed, his gaze shifting as the older man jerked in his seat. “They don’t call her the Cavalry for nothing.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

Fitz jumped from where he’d planted himself in front of the monitor, and spun to find Ward peering over his shoulder, arms crossed as usual. “Don’t do that!”

Skye’s face scrunched for a moment, nose wrinkled. “Why is she called that anyway?”

A snicker came from behind her, a sound she knew only came from Fitz. “You seriously don’t know?”

Barely looking behind her, she sneered. “Obviously or I wouldn’t have asked.”

Ward spoke up first, monotone, face blank. “No one knows for sure. Rumor has it she took agents by herself.”

“I heard it was 30.”

Skye heard a swoosh of air as, what she assumed was the back of Simmons hand, smacked Fitz in the center of his chest. “Oh, hush.”

“Rude.”

“They took a man hostage, she went in to get him.”

“How do you know this?” Skye questioned, pointing at Trip, eyebrows raised in suspicion. 

“Everyone knows this. Why don’t you?”

She shrugged, turning back to Ward as he began to speak again. 

“It was Coulson. They got separated, he couldn’t get to an exit. She went back in. They got out, and neither of them will say what happened in there.”

“How do you know that?” Simmons questioned this time.

And Ward shrugged, frowning. “One of their old shipmates let it slip.”

Coulson jolted again, and Trip shook his head. “Don’t know why he can’t ever take her down. They know all of the same techniques.”

Fitz spoke up from the monitor again, an arm resting across his abdomen, the other hand sitting under his chin. “She’s just better. Quieter, faster…” He turned, looking the taller man in the eye. “Why, you bet on Coulson again?”

Trip said nothing as Simmons shifted on her feet. 

“You didn’t, Jemma.”

“Well, he needs someone to believe in him.”

Their conversation halted as May rocked in her seat, convulsing for a moment before settling, her head tilted slightly to the side. Simmons scurried away from the group, tongue clucking as she grabbed a rag and wipe away the blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. “Must they always play so hard?”

ooo000ooo

May shook her head, the spots slowly clearing from her vision, and spit the blood from her mouth. She hadn’t seen that one coming, and a boot to the face rarely ending well for anyone.

Cringing, Coulson cleared his throat, watching her wobble slightest, still crouch on the floor. “Too hard?”

“Not a chance.” She leapt, sight still speckled in shades of grey, and threw a punch.

He pushed her hand away, a little concerned with how slow she seemed to be moving, and stepped back as her other fist flew. She growled, and he chuckled, knowing she was find and that the sound in no way would bode well for him.

She was still sluggishly rotating from the force of his shove, and he grabbed her, locking his arm around her thin neck. As she tried to reposition, he kicked away the leg she was attempting to sneak behind his, and found himself moving backwards instead. Back hitting a wall, he planted his foot and pushed them forward, but was unprepared for when she slipped her leg behind his mid stumble. He felt her arm cross his abdomen, and the pressure as she forced him back. Unable to step back and steady himself, he released his hold, and fell over her leg.

As she turned to face him straight on, fists up, he crawled to his feet. Putting his hands in his knew, he slouched over, panting heavily. Looking at her, he wondered how she could keep this up, she barely looked like she was breathing.

Kicking, in a last desperate attempt at salvaging the session, he wasn’t at all surprised when she skillfully avoided the blow and, instead, grabbed his foot with both hands. And as he met the ground for the umpteenth time, the wind gone from him, he couldn’t quite explain why he’d try that. It always ended the same. She twisted, using his precarious balance against him, and he’s spiraled down until the ground met him in a detestable encounter.

Regaining his breath, he swiped her feet out from under her. She fell, landing on him, a hard elbow digging into his ribs. He groaned, not anticipating her adjustment in trajectory. She was quickly to rectify her situation though. As she crawled up him, he resisted the urge to groan again, and found it difficult to breath for a reason other than her forearm pressed against his throat.

“Give up?”

“Never,” he choked, blood pulsating in his ears.

May patted his face as his eyes fluttered. “The kids don’t like when you pass out, Phil. Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

Her mocking seeped through the pounding, the genuine smile in her tone, and his vision darkening, he considered tapping out. The decision was made for him though, the ringing of her cell bringing access to a lungful of air, and he watched her grin shrink as she dug it out of her pocket.

“Guess we’ll have to finish this later. “Pushing herself up, still straddling him, she flipped the phone open. “Go.”

_“Time to logout, kiddies. We got bugs on the way.”_

“Where to?” Breaking eye contact, she flipped her hair out of her face, and looked around, but stayed firmly in place.

Coulson tapped the outside of her thigh, signaling her to move. He wanted up, feeling vulnerable trapped on the floor. But she just smirked again, sinking down, her full weight resting on his stomach as she listened to Skye. Rolling his eyes, he dropped his head back to the concrete. Grimacing, he coughed slightly, realizing he shouldn’t have done that.  
Closing his eye, he waited, and founding her standing above him, hand out, a few moments later. Taking the offered olive branch, he let her pull him to his feet. “What’s happening?”

“Sentinels.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Where to?”

“Up.”

He frowned at her meager responses, but threw his hand out. “Lead the way.”

ooo000ooo

May was the first out, Simmons face hovering over her own. “Oh, good. Trip and Ward are finding a place to put the Bus down. And we just need Coulson out, so we can use the EMP, if necessary. Which hopeful it won’t be.”

Gently pushing the young woman out of the way, she stood, moving to Coulson chair. “How much time?”

“Two minutes,” Skye shot back, fiercely pounding on her keyboard. 

“Why isn’t he out yet?” Both of her hands sat on his arm, thumbs rubbing small circles into the knitted fabric.

“I don’t know he’s not picking up.”

All three woman and Fitz jolted as the Bus landed roughly. 

“Time?”

“A minute! Taking his sweet time isn’t he?”

“We’re gonna die, and I’ve never seen a real monkey,” Fitz lamented. 

“Go take care of him,” May ordered. “Come on, Phil.” She listened to the muttered monkey conversation for the hundredth time.

_“There aren’t any real monkeys left, Fitz.”_

_“You don’t know, it’s a big world out there.”_

“Thirty seconds!”

She blink, and he was there. Eyes open, she pulled the plug before he sat up. He stood, and Skye quickly shut the power down as May questioned Coulson. “Christ, what were you doing?”

“I’m sorry. There was Cap…”

“I swear to God, if you something about Captain America, I will put you down right now, Phil.”

“Shhhhh – ”

May shot the two withering looks, but quieted. 

“Looks like there heading off.”

They all breathed a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing, but it was short lived as the high pitched panic of the Science Twins drew their attention. Soft beeps pinged off the bulkhead, steadily growing louder.

“Shut it off!”

“We’re trying,” they shrieked, both fiddling with various contraptions on Fitz’s belt.

The ship pitched hard, sending the occupants sprawled out across the floor. “Now, would be a good time to…” His thought died as the ship rocked again, the screech of metal being pulled apart ringing in the ears. 

He curled tighter around Melinda, Skye advancing on her work station. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, Coulson brought his hand up, in an attempt to cover both their heads. He stayed folded around her, not registering the new voices or lack of commotion. If this was the end, he was right where he wanted to be. 

“Phil?”

Slowly he untucked his head, and looked around. Every member of his was accounted for, he could see each of their heads bobbing round, pretending to be occupied. His eye were drawn to the figure under him.

“When I said we could finish this later, I didn’t mean in front of the kids.”

A minor blush crawling up his cheeks, he hopped up without a word, and pulled May to her feet. Smiling at the mischievous glint in her eye, Coulson cleared his throat. “Report.”


End file.
